The Order of Shadows
by AquilaDeus
Summary: Harry learns at a young age that hate and manipulation are powerful tools, can he mould others into this way of thinking or will his journey into the dark be a lonesome one.


This is my first fanfiction and so I would really like feedback on my writing, honestly I do not care if it is good or bad so write what you actually think.

This first chapter is really just setting the scene for the rest of the story, and a test to see if people want me to continue to write this. I am aware that what I write will likely not be very original, but I will try my damn hardest to make it as original as possible.

The next chapter will likely not be released for a while as I am going to wait to see what kind of reception this one receives. However, I will continue to write the next chapter during this time so it will likely be ready to release once my decision regarding the continuation of the story is made.

Disclaimer: You know how it is; I own nothing except the characters I feel the need to add, if there even are any.

_Thoughts_

_Why do they hate me_ thought Harry, as he desperately tried to drag himself away from Uncle Vernon's unrelenting fists.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please sir I'm so sorry" harry whimpered, hoping to quell Vernon's vicious onslaught.

"Oh you will be boy, I'll make sure of that," whispered Vernon dangerously into Harrys bloodied ear. The attack suddenly stopped and harry listened as Uncle Vernon moved away, hoping that it was over. That wish was crushed when he heard the soft 'clink' of metal on metal. Harry knew that sound all too well. The fire poker.

Harry tried frantically to crawl away but there was so much pain, he could not even tell if his frail limbs were even responding. He had little time to contemplate this however as his 'Uncle' roughly grabbed him by the collar of his overly large rags and threw him violently into the corner of the living room.

Harry hit the wall with a sickening crack signifying yet another broken bone from todays 'lesson' as his Uncle liked to call it. He clenched his teeth while sliding down the wall, refusing to cry out the sudden pain in his shoulder. Showing weakness in these circumstances would be a bad move. Harry knew this; he had after all experienced this many a time.

"This is the end for you freak, we have put up with you for far too long "said Vernon through gritted teeth.

He took a step closer. Harry pushed himself against the wall; he had always been expecting this during his beatings, for his Uncle to finally do this.

"FIVE LONG YEARS WE HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO LIVE UNDER OUR ROOF, NOT ANYMORE." roared Uncle Vernon "I DON'T CARE WHAT THAT OLD CRACKPOT SAYS I'VE HAD ENOUGH".

Uncle Vernon raised the fire poker. His Uncle was going to kill him. Harry wondered if his death would be quick, but then realised that would most likely not be the case, Vernon being who he is would want harry to 'feel' before he died.

He looked around frantically for something to help himself with, there was nothing. _I can't die now_. Harry knew there was only one thing that could help him now, but he doubted it would do anything; his 'gift' as he liked to call it was unpredictable. Nevertheless, it was always worth a try.

He raised both his hands, pointed his palms toward the incoming fire poker, and willed it to stop. His arms trembled as soon as he started to raise them but he ignored the pain and forced himself to continue. He wanted his uncle to stop, to feel how he felt now. He wanted him to hurt.

A pleasant feeling spread from Harry's chest to his hands easing his pain along the way, he knew what this was. It was his gift.

Harry smirked.

Vernon's eyes widened as a black mist started to emanate from Harry's palms, when the poker entered the mist time seemed to stop. Vernon stood as still as a statue unable to move for the longest time, and then it happened. The poker began to glow white hot in his hands melting the skin and binding his hands to the superheated handle. Vernon began to scream and dropped to the floor, writhing in agony desperately trying to tear his hands away from the poker but to no avail.

Harry watched as his uncle continued to struggle on the floor, smirk still firmly imprinted on his face.

Aunt Petunia burst through the door, eyes roaming the room. When they landed on Vernon and his plight, she let out a high-pitched scream and promptly fainted.

Harry continued to observe these happenings not moving an inch, content to sit and watch as the events played out. _This is how it should be _harry thought to himself _I'm better than they will ever be, I have the gift while they don't. I am superior_.

Harry stood up from the floor, amazingly with no pain. He looked down at his previously broken and beaten body which was now entirely unblemished by the beating. It was just like magic. Yes that seemed fitting to Harry to call his gift magic, it may have seemed childish, but it felt right.

He made his way to the phone on the table so that he could phone an ambulance, after all it would be suspicious if he hadn't done anything even if he was only 6. By this point Vernon had passed out due to pain and so Harry dialled 999 and waited.

When someone finally answered harry put on his most childish voice after all he had to play the part.

"H-hello, hello" harry began.

"Hello, what's the problem?"

"M-m-my uncle there's something w-wrong with him" he continued frantically.

"Calm down son it will be ok, just tell me everything you can, ok" said the operator trying to calm the boy.

"W-well his hands are all messed up, a-and i-I can't wake him u-up, PLEASE HELP HIM." Harry Bawled

"It's ok, it's ok, just tell me where you are and we'll be there shortly, ok."

"O-okay I'm a-at home, 4-4 private drive."

"You say safe ok, we will be there soon."

Harry just smiled.


End file.
